While the coast was inundated with pouring rain, Richard Stover,
Jackie Stroud, and I spent a dry Christmas week photographing Joshua
trees, watching birds and climbing peaks. After warming up with a
hike beside flowing water in delightful Pipes Canyon, we set off to
climb Quail Mountain, the highpoint of Joshua Tree National Park.
Hiking 13 miles round trip and climbing 2,400 feet didn't leave time
to stop and explore the remains of an old-time miner's cabin. So
we'll just have to return.

We chose to approach Quail from the Quail Springs Picnic Area
although several other routes (all about the same length) are
possible. To our surprise, the bobbing heads of early-blooming Mohave
aster greeted us as we ascended. A fierce wind blew most of the day.
We returned down a fun wash with 5-10 foot dry waterfalls.

We camped for three nights in J-Tree's Black Canyon Campground and
were delighted by visits from Gambrel's quail and a bold cactus wren.
At night we were serenaded by coyotes and owls despite the
campground's location in the suburbs. On the last day we hiked up
easy Warren Peak from our campsite and then drove to the BLM Corn
Springs Campground just west of the park.

Our plan was to climb Chuckwalla. We had unsuccessfully attempted
this peak, (often used as a list finisher by the DPS) last year.
Although Chuckwalla has a reputation for being easy, we were forced
to bail last year, got caught in a flash flood and ended up running
over our camp stove which we abandoned by the side of the road as it
was leaking gas. We were seeking atonement by returning to the scene
of the crime to pick up our litter and of course, bag this peak. The
camp stove was gone. Perhaps highway workers or maybe a thrifty
camper had picked it up.

The peak was still there, however, and we started up the traditional
DPS route. After leaving the canyon, as I was scrambling up the ridge
on loose rock, I slipped, and my hand fell into a welcoming cholla
looking for someone to assist it with reproduction. The clumps of
spines made my hand look like a porcupine. "Get two sticks," I
shouted to Richard, after I stopped screaming.

I'm sure it hurt Richard more than it hurt me. He does not enjoy
inflicting pain. As he pulled out each cholla joint (numerous clumps
on my right hand and one clinging to my butt), I screamed. Finally I
decided to climb up to where Jackie was listening and have her
continue the de-stickering with tweezers.

Jackie complied, but Richard remained behind. He had decided the
ridge was too exposed for his comfort. This bit of easy third class
was a surprise since most descriptions of Chuckwalla describe it as
first or second class. My DPS directions read, "Follow the wash . . .
to the summit ridge, turn right for a short walk to the top." Were we
off route, or do most climbers consider the narrow ridge a "walk"?

On the summit Jackie and I had another shock. There was the roar of a
plane and a loud noise. Smoke rose from the southwest a short
distance away. Although the map indicated an "aerial gunnery range,"
I was not prepared to be bombed! After requisite photo taking and
register signing, we rejoined Richard and returned to the truck.
Jackie left to return to Joshua Tree, and Richard and I headed for a
motel in Blythe to soak my hand.

We spent the next day leisurely driving to Christmas Tree Pass. We
stopped to watch birds along the Colorado River, saw golden eagles,
an American kestrel, a roadrunner. But our biggest surprise was
Oatman, Arizona. This little settlement has discovered how to attract
tourists. The mines are no longer viable, there is no industry. But
they have an abundance of burros. There are burros in the street,
burros on the wooden sidewalks, burros sticking their noses into car
windows and back pockets. Mama burros, grandpa burros, fuzzy little
babies. The vendors sell carrots, and t-shirts and whirligigs. We
bought a whirligig. Most weird was the uniquely American
entertainment: two guys pretending to shoot each other in the street.

On to stupendous Spirit Mountain in Nevada. After some initial confusion about
which faint dirt road was the trailhead (there are many and all are
now staked as wilderness), we set off. There is a parade of ducks
leading to the summit from the main wash. Normally, I hate ducks, but
this time I was glad to have them as we threaded our way among barrel
cacti. Although the distance is only about 1.5 miles as the crow
flies, the switchbacking and route finding make it longer. We took
about 3 hours to make the summit.

But where was the summit? As the ducks petered out there were several
third class gendarmes. I climbed one and spotted the summit littered
with the remains of an old survey marker. But how to get there? We
descended a bit and then crossed over a 10-foot-high third class rib
to reach a clear path to the summit where we had good views of the
Colorado River.

For the remainder of our trip we explored the Mojave National
Preserve. The beautifully-restored Kelso Depot is now open and is
well worth visiting. We wandered many sandy 4WD roads stopping
frequently to see Northern Shrike, Harris Antelope squirrel
(including a baby squirrel) and blooming desert verbena. We spied on
cottontails, black-tailed hares, coyote, lots of red-tailed hawks,
white crowned sparrows and more.

We quietly celebrated New Year's Eve Greenland time at Hole in the
Wall Campground.